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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22934275">Endless Epilogue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/idk5678/pseuds/idk5678'>idk5678</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:40:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22934275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/idk5678/pseuds/idk5678</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is haunted by the memories of the one love she should’ve fought for. So when she accepts the invitation to Lexa’s wedding, they are both forced to come to terms with the fact that maybe their story isn’t over after all.</p><p>Or</p><p>Clarke has one last chance to tell Lexa how she feels before it’s too late.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anya/Raven Reyes, Clarke Griffin &amp; Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Octavia Blake/Lincoln</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>279</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know this is a short first chapter, but I really wanted to get it up. This may be my favorite start to one of my fics so far. I think I’m going to continue with this style of writing. </p><p>Let me know what you think! I’d love any feedback you have. </p><p>Also, more chapters to come!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the way her hair tucked behind her ear, like it had the beautiful chaos under control. Just another fooled figure head wielding borrowed power, borrowed time. </p><p>It was the way her exultant smile pulled the skin around her cheekbones taut. Formed shallow caverns above her jawbone that a pair of lips, or a tender thumb, or a satiated daydream could get lost in.</p><p>It was the way her long, beautiful fingers traced cursive letters between the margins of freckles on a back, or tapped the spines of books as if she were waking them up, promising them she wouldn’t over stay her welcome.</p><p>It was the way her sea green eyes felt more like home than the shore; light house be damned. If her gaze was a siren song, let these baby blue eyes drown in it. These salty breaths didn’t feel like her own anymore anyway.</p><p>All the poetry Clarke had ever written dwelled in her head and took form in wistful memories of brown curls, and intertwined legs, and sheets that smelled like teakwood and bergamot. </p><p>And when everything crumbled, when they flew the white flag and called a cease fire. When they surrendered all their best moments to their heartbreak manifesto, Clarke found herself wishing that the spine of their book was met by the soft pads of fingers. Everyday since then, she prayed that their story would reawaken, and that Lexa would overstay her welcome perpetually.</p><p>But that white flag would soon be worn as a veil, and one of those beautiful fingers was adorning a shiny promise of forever. That mane would be tamed into hairspray waves, perfectly placed, and that gaze would call someone else home. Her vows would eclipse waning memories, and Clarke would have to accept the fact that their story would now only be revisited by her, late in the evening in fitful nightmares and distracted daydreams. </p><p>Why she even accepted this invitation was beyond her. She was a sleep deprived masochist wanting one last moment with her quiet prayer at night, her heart’s eternal ‘What if?’. One last memory that she could torture her soul with, veritable sea salt on open wounds.</p><p>So here she was, standing in front of her best friend, Raven’s, apartment door, duffle bag slung over her shoulder, trying to focus more on the aching weight of it, rather than the aching weight of her chest. The unwieldy thought that in a week the epilogue of their story would be written, and it wasn’t a happy ending; at least not for Clarke.</p><p>Lexa was getting married, and it wasn’t to her.</p><p>***</p><p>“Clarke... You look like shit. Have you slept at all this week?” Though Raven’s words sounded abrasive, they held more concern than Clarke thought her friend could muster. Her dark eyes looked like pools of ink drying into expressions of worry. And really what did she expect people to say? She didn’t even know how she made it through airport security without getting labeled as a flight risk.</p><p>“Raven... I don’t know how... I can’t find it in me to just let her go...” Clarke realized that she hadn’t spoken all day. Her voice sounded foreign and defective, too pliant to hold the weight of everything she wanted to say but couldn’t. Lexa always said that was her biggest flaw; too stubborn to walk away from a fight but too timid to vocalize her needs. The last time Clarke saw her, Lexa said their relationship was just one infinite argument broken up by good intentions. And that was when she knew she had to let her go. </p><p>But now, as Clarke stood in the wake of her own deafening memories, the moments that caused her diagnosis of insomnia, she realized she had one more fight left in her. One more fight to say exactly what needed to say before she put this to bed forever.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A flashback to when Clarke and Lexa met, and an unexpected sweet moment between her and Anya.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They met freshman year of college. It was spring time. The chilling February breeze plucking March flower buds from the tree branches. The pedals floated like little paper boats in pooling rain water, and Clarke was so enthralled by the race she had concocted in her head, rooting on the lavender vessel pirating all her attention, that she collided with the most prepossessing girl she had ever seen.</p><p>Burnt caramel waves were now far more interesting than the quivering ripples carrying cotton candy blossoms to the sewer drain. Sea green eyes met her ocean blues, and now she wished that one of those little pedals could keep her from drowning in the infinite depth of possibilities.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Her voice was soft like velvet, higher pitched than Clarke had expected, but alluring none the less. She hugged two paper backs to her chest, distressed spines and dog eared corners. Clarke was almost certain ink blot annotations could be found on every page. She liked a girl that wasn’t afraid to make a mess in the name of deeper understanding. She just didn’t know, that soon, the same could be said for her heart.</p><p>“No, no... It’s totally my fault. Got lost in my own head.” Long fingers unfurled from the novels, now moving into unknown territory as the brunette held out her hand.</p><p>“I’m Lexa. I’m a freshman English major here.” And everything about that statement made sense to Clarke. This girl moved like pure poetry and looked like she climbed out of Jane Austen novel.  All of the blonde’s ‘Sense and Sensibility’ felt like it was launched back to the 1800s, when the prose were more eloquent and the love stories defied all expectations.</p><p>“I’m Clarke, major is undeclared, but I like to call it ‘SFMSO’.” Lexa giggled and gave her a questioning quirk of the eye brow. “Still figuring my shit out.” </p><p>“Ahhhh, well, that’s my minor. Though I’m not so sure it will look great on a resume.” Now Clarke was the one laughing, and it made her heart stutter seeing the smile it unsheathed from the beautiful girl shivering across from her.</p><p>“Well, I know we just met, and I’m sure you’re dying to get back to your buddies, Bronte and Dickinson, but could I interest you in a coffee?”</p><p>You know when you lose something and the first thing people ask you is ‘Where is the last place you remember having it?” Well Clarke could pin point the moment she lost her heart to a cool day in early spring, beauty being reborn all around her, but not being able to take her eyes off of oceanic emeralds and light brown curls. </p><p>***</p><p>“Anya will be home soon with dinner. Can I grab you... like... tea, or a beer, or maybe a shot of whiskey?” Clarke could see Raven anxiously moving around the kitchen. She was frantic with just a touch of manic, and Clarke would normally find this hysterical if she weren’t the cause of it.</p><p>“Are you sure Anya’s cool with me crashing with you guys? I mean... She is Lexa’s sister.” This seemed to halt Raven for a moment. She was gripping a wine bottle, and slowing the inevitably heavy pour into the stemless glass. </p><p>“Clarke, listen, Anya loves you like family. I mean, we wouldn’t even be married right now if it weren’t for you and Lexa. She’s glad you’re here, and so am I.” Clarke nodded, hating the way her eyes burned and her throat tensed. The image of a married Raven and Anya was a very happy one, but it also made Clarke wish she was their family on paper, that they shared part of a surname. Soon, Costia and Lexa would cement this married club, and Clarke would be permanently referred to as ‘like family’ instead of actual ‘family.’ </p><p>All of a sudden, her anxious and heart broken thoughts were shattered by the slam of the door and the sound of crinkling paper bags, the older Woods now in eyesight. Anya was tall and slender like Lexa. Toned and lean. She had a long face and high cheek bones, inarguably attractive. Instead of green eyes, however, she had chocolate brown and her wavy hair was a shade or two lighter. </p><p>“Clarke! Hey! Let me set this stuff down so I can give you a proper hug,” The last time she had seen Anya, it was when she was packing up to move across the country. She found the blonde buried in haphazardly marked cardboard boxes and rolls of bubble wrap. But nothing about this image looked more chaotic or lost than the red eyed Clarke begging her tear ducts not to make her look weaker than she already felt.</p><p>The memory of Anya begging Clarke not to go, begging her to give Lexa some time to think rationally, was forever seared into Clarke’s head. She still had oxygen gasping nightmares about it. Why hadn’t she just stayed? Why hadn’t she fought a little harder?</p><p>“Anya, it’s so good to see you... I missed you.” And that was true. As Clarke felt long arms pull her in tighter, into a body that seemed to rhyme with the one she craved late at night, she knew there was nothing more true than that statement. She missed the girl who felt like her adopted older sister. She missed the way they all used to stay up until 3 in the morning drunk on cheap wine and magic of how they all felt. She missed the way Anya used to tease her about being wifed up and whipped. She missed the safety and security she found in her, like she was the next door neighbor of her home.</p><p>“I missed you too... So much.” Tears threatened this seemingly happy moment, but Clarke didn’t have the strength to keep them at bay. “God Clarke... This should’ve been you.”</p><p>And maybe it was the intoxicating nostalgia, or the single degree of separation Clark was from her beating proclamation, but she felt like it still could be her. Not just in her memories, or her nightmares, or her favorite photographs. Maybe there was apart of Lexa that could pull her distressed spined, dog eared, scribbled on heart off the shelf. Maybe it never even made it back. Maybe she still had it clutched to her chest, waiting for some daydreaming blonde to collide into her and remind her the power of a cool spring day. Maybe, like the buds on the trees, they could be reborn too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I promise Lexa will make a real appearance next chapter. Just wanted to give a little context to their relationship.</p><p>Let me know what you think! I would love any feedback you have.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clarke sees a drunk Lexa for the first time in 3 years, saying and doing things she shouldn’t. </p><p>It becomes abundantly clear that maybe there is still hope for them after all.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I tried to mix some fluff into this chapter with just a dash of angst.</p><p>Let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The last time Clarke saw Lexa, she was knee deep in her own indecision; in need of rain boots and answers to questions she didn’t ask. </p><p>The last time Clarke felt Lexa, her fingers were slipping away like moments turning to memories, souls turning to apparitions. Her mind and heart already pin pricks in a map in someone else’s bedroom, thousands of miles away. You would think it was Lexa who was the one uprooting her life. But Clarke had the boxes and fistfuls of regret and devastation to make her a certified runner. Her heart ached in the way that calf muscles pulsed, tired from going the distance. And yes, she may have the flight itinerary to prove it, but it was Lexa who jumped ship first. Who rather drown in her own misguided heart break than fight for her. No rain boots or life jackets could save her from her own uncertainty.</p><p>The last time Clarke heard Lexa’s voice, she was saying the one thing she knew would cement their separation, drawing out her words like a stick in wet concrete. ‘This relationship is just one infinite argument broken up by good intentions. We’ve fought each other for so long in the name of fighting for this... For us. But I can’t be an us with you anymore. I’m tired... I’m done.’ And the silent air sure did it’s job hardening her disposition, creating permanence to this surrendered vandalism. So Clarke left, feeling that sea green gaze try to call her back, but this time, she needed fingers, and arms, and lips. She needed action. A look into someone’s eyes may tell you the truth they are too scared to say, but it is too passive to fight for you the way words and hands can, the way her words and hands should have. </p><p>And somehow, in the middle of the night, while Clarke was dreaming about flower petals and uncharted oceans, Lexa must’ve snuck in and stolen her heart back. Clarke chalked her own up to collateral damage; the cost of loving recklessly, without rain boots, and life vests, and the careful supervision of Jane Austen’s written word.</p><p>***</p><p>The first time Clarke saw her again, she didn’t think it would be like this. She didn’t think it would be at their old favorite bar, nursing a beer and a wounded heart, and wondering if she was out of her goddamn mind.</p><p>But here they were, first solid eye contact they’ve shared since that night 3 years ago. Lexa pausing in the door way, looking absolutely ready to run, and Clarke about ready to let her. Because if one look at the blonde made Lexa turn the other way, Clarke wasn’t sure there was anything left to fight for. Their time together like a sunken ship, already pillaged through by divers, taking only the museum quality pieces and leaving behind reoccurring nightmares.</p><p>She didn’t run, neither out the door nor towards Clarke. She stood there for what felt like a century, jaw pulsing, eyes unwavering, hair tamed by elastic and wishful thinking. And god was she beautiful.</p><p>But Clarke couldn’t say that. She didn’t have the right, nor the energy, to clean up the mess those uttered thoughts would make. So she broke the eye contact and stared at the curve of her beer bottle, trying to erase the curve of Lexa’s hips from her mind. </p><p>She wasn’t sure where her memories ended and this moment began. Wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the familiar scent of bergamot and teakwood that made her ability to form words impossibly cloudy. Wasn’t sure if she felt a firm press of a hand on her shoulder, or just the ghost of one of the many lost moments she couldn’t carry with her no matter how hard she tried.</p><p>“Clarke...” And now she was chasing her own thoughts like flower pedals down a sewage drain. But it was all wrong, because it wasn’t early spring, and she was far too aware of her surroundings, of how close their bodies were. Far too familiar with the notes of her perfume, and sound of her belly laugh, and the way she bit her lip when she tried to hold back tears. She knew her middle name, and her favorite flavor of ice cream, and the sound of her voice at 3 AM when she thought Clarke was dreaming. They weren’t strangers destined to meet through serendipitous distraction anymore. They knew each other’s souls. </p><p>Clarke wanted to fight. Fight the ghosts in her head, and the sadness haunting their memories. But her flight response yanked her from her bar stool and had her heading for the door. Before she could get too far, she felt familiarly long fingers grab her hand and pull her back, like an uncoordinated rag doll’s waltz. And now they were so close that Clarke could smell Lexa’s signature spearmint gum mixed with fruity vodka. </p><p>The blonde scanned the girl up and down. She wore ripped, light wash jeans and a white tank top that said bride on it. Her hair was pulled back in a messy pony tail and her mascara was smudged, making her look more tired than she probably was. Her cheeks were a soft, rosy color, contrasting the stark, piercing green eyes that stared back at her. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that Lexa was missing from a drunk, stumbling bachelorette party. Probably two blocks away searching high and low for her. Anya should know by now that Lexa is a runner when she’s drunk (and also when she’s scared, sad, overwhelmed...).</p><p>“Lexa...Where are your friends? They’re probably looking for you...” The intoxicated brunette gave her a hiccuped giggle in response, still gripping her hand like it was her lifeline back to sober reality. </p><p>“Clarke, I missed you. I knew you’d be here...” Her syllables were long and drawn out, directly juxtaposing the beating of Clarke’s heart. Her buzz was now shattered by how overly aware she was that Lexa’s other hand was now on her hip. Her gaze haunting her lips. She had to say something, do something, before a sober Lexa could label her as a mistake.</p><p>“You’re drunk. Sit down, drink some water. I’ll call Anya.” She began to reach for her phone, but Lexa had other plans. She pulled the blonde in to a tight hug and swayed back and forth, feeling more like a bobbing boat than a sweet slow dance. Her face was now tucked into Clarke’s shoulder, and the wispy ends of her pony tail now tickling her neck. This was all too much, and she felt like she couldn’t breath, couldn’t think, couldn’t see straight. </p><p>She managed to dial Anya’s number from around Lexa’s back and put the phone up to her ear. The first thing she heard were drunk girls screaming at each other and the tired sigh of a dedicated older sister who just wanted to go home.</p><p>“Anya, I think I have what you’re looking for. She’s about 5’6, curly brown hair, green eyes, drunk on strawberry daiquiris?” The statement made Lexa giggle even more and bury her face deeper into Clarke’s collarbone, quirking her neck in a way that she would probably regret in the morning.</p><p>“Fuck, Clarke, I’m so sorry! You know how she gets when she’s drunk. I can’t believe she just ran into you like that.” Clarke took a deep breath, the scent of salon grade shampoo filling her nostrils. </p><p>“I don’t think it was fate intervening here. I think she came looking for me...” The other end of the line went so eerily quiet that Clarke was scared the call dropped. “Anya?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. I just... I can’t believe she would do this. The fucking week of her wedding.” Anya’s voice carried a tone of disbelief, but something about it felt forced, like deep down she knew this would happen. </p><p>“Nothing’s happened, Ahn. You know me better than that.” But the way Lexa’s body curled into her like a question mark finding its answer didn’t feel like nothing. Felt like anything but nothing.</p><p>“I know, but I also know her...” Lexa’ eyes were now closed, lips pursed, puffing warm breaths on to Clarke’s shoulder. The over stimulation of this moment full of incoherent thoughts, and bad jukebox selections, and Lexa nearly dozing off in her arms made Clarke’s chest tighten. </p><p>“Can you just get here? I’m kinda freaking out.” </p><p>“Yes! Yes! I’m seriously so sorry. Where are you?” Anya’s voice was shaky and nervous, and Clarke could hear her frantically tapping on her phone. </p><p>“We’re at Grounders.” All of a sudden, the frantic tapping stopped and she heard a heavy sigh from the other end of line.</p><p>“That’s fucking across town... How did she even get there?!” And now Clarke’s heart stuttered in panic. Did Lexa drive drunk? She could’ve gotten hurt, or worse, killed. </p><p>“Lex, how did you get here?” The familiar nick name must’ve stirred the brunette awake, her body suddenly stiff and no longer swaying. Her hands now gripping the back of the blonde’s neck, fingers interlaced with her baby hairs.</p><p>“Lyft. I gave Joey 5 stars.” She was still mumbling, her sleepy voice like velvet to Clarke’s ears. “Please don’t leave me Clarke... Please.” And now Clarke’s tshirt sleeve was damp and warm. </p><p>“Are you crying? Please don’t cry.” Lexa’s back felt like it was vibrating with silent sobs, and Clarke didn’t have the band width to handle this. There wasn’t exactly a manual titled How to Comfort Your Drunk, Tired, Emotional Ex the Week of Her Wedding.</p><p>“Clarke, I’m on my way! Did you say she’s crying?” </p><p>“Just get your ass over here, Anya.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Clarke managed to get Lexa off of her and on to a bar stool, but not without a fight and a clumsy untangling of limbs. The brunette was now pouting, cheek pressed to the inside of her palm, looking like a kid who got their toy taken away.</p><p>“Do you hate me, Clarke?” The question felt like a punch to Clarke’s gut. There wasn’t a molecule of her being that could even fathom hating Lexa. Her life would probably be a lot easier if she could.</p><p>“Lex, you’re drunk. You can’t be asking me shit like that.” The words came out on the wings of a sigh. Everything ached. Even the most natural human actions like breathing felt labored and forced. </p><p>“I’ve missed hearing you call me Lex. Almost as much as I’ve missed hearing you call me baby.” Clarke was now gripping her lukewarm beer and glancing up at the ceiling, unable the see the truth in Lexa’s eyes. She couldn’t decide what would be work; Lexa meaning every word of that sentence or not meaning any of it at all. “Do you still love me?”</p><p>“Lexa! Fuck! You can’t ask me shit like that when you’re drunk and getting married in a week. It’s not fair... This isn’t right... I was supposed to see you right before the wedding... This was supposed to be on my terms... I had this whole speech prepared... And I was going to tell you that you’re it for me, and I miss you more than my own heart beat, and I will never not be in love with you...” And as she trailed off into her own anguish, she realized that the brunette was now asleep, propped up only by the strength of her left arm. And while Clarke wasn’t sure she would have the strength to say all the things she needed to say again, she knew this was for the best right now. She needed a sober, fully conscious Lexa to understand all the things she was finally brave enough to profess. </p><p>“Clarke! I’m here! I’m so sorry!” A frazzled Anya was now sprinting towards them, missing the rest of the party.</p><p>“Where’d your crew go?” Clarke couldn’t help but laugh at the dramatic glare Anya pointed towards her.</p><p>“I had Raven take them back to their airbnb. The last thing we need is for Lexa to declare her undying love for you in front of those dip shits.” That statement made Clarke’s throat tighten and her lungs feel like they couldn’t get enough oxygen. Anya must’ve realized this, because her eyes widened and she began shaking her head. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”</p><p>“It’s fine. Let’s just get her into your car in one piece.” They each took one arm and carefully lifted the brunette from her stool, barely stirring her awake. She leaned in closer to Clarke, head now resting on her shoulder, and arm tightening around her neck. They gently tucked her into the passenger side of Anya’s car, and right as Clarke was about to buckle her in, Lexa leaned forward, whimpering in her ear.</p><p>“Please don’t leave me, Clarke. Please.” She was staying with Anya anyway, and it would be far more eco friendly to just share the ride back, Clarke bargained with herself. It was all to do with practicality and nothing to do with the way her heart ached when Lexa begged her not to go. </p><p>“Don’t worry, Lex. I’m right here.” The brunette nodded and melted into her seat, clearly comforted by the notion that Clarke was hers, even just for the evening, even just for a quiet, nearly unconscious car ride. Some part of Clarke must’ve convinced herself that Lexa was hers too, even just for this haphazard moment of clumsy seatbelt clicks, because she leaned over and pressed the softest whisper of a kiss to Lexa’s temple. She knew she should regret it, but she couldn’t. This moment was theirs. Not Anya’s or Costia’s or Raven’s. It was just their’s.</p><p>“Hey Clarke... Would you mind if I bring her back to my place? I don’t want Costia to see her like this” Anya’s voice pulled Clarke back into the bleak reality that this moment couldn’t last forever.</p><p>“Of course. She can have the guest room. I’ll just crash on the couch.” </p><p>“God, you’re the best. Her dumb ass doesn’t even deserve you.” Even if that statement was true, Clarke didn’t care. She would rather have her heart shattered by Lexa than love anyone else.</p><p>***</p><p>They tucked Lexa into bed with a glass of water and two aspirin. Though nothing was capable of saving her from the hellish hang over she would have tomorrow.</p><p>“Good night, baby. Sweet dreams.” Clarke pushed a tangled tendril of hair from Lexa’s face, and watched as she stirred every so gently.</p><p>“Clarke... I still love you.” But she already knew that. She knew it the moment their eyes met from across the bar. Lexa maybe a runner when she’s drunk, but it’s always to somewhere, or rather someone, that she feels safest. And if she was still running towards her after all this time, there was still hope, still a chance, still something to be salvaged.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clarke finally gets some clarity, and Lexa makes a big confession.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the delay! I wasn’t sure where I wanted this story to go, but I think I finally figured it out!</p><p> </p><p>Let me know what you think of this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What the fuck happened last night?” Clarke was awoken by soft whispers floating through the small apartment, hitting her harder than the heavy aroma of the first batch of coffee. She kept her eyes closed, trying to keep her awake status undetected by the two figures in the kitchen.</p><p>“You owe Clarke an apology. The position you put her in last night was not fair.” Clarke’s face felt hot and her eyelids burned, begging to open. Something about hearing her name in the same air that Lexa was breathing made her stomach twist. Sure, last night she had felt Lexa’s arms wrap around her, her face buried in her chest, her words heavy with wanting her and only her. But she was drunk and not fully able to comprehend the ramifications of her actions. This morning was different; it felt like reality after a dream. Like when you first wake up in that strange in between of conscious thought and reckless desire. </p><p>“Did something happen between us?! Did I...” She could hear the panic in Lexa’s voice, the disbelief that her heart and mind had wandered so far from their current address, their current home. She could already feel Lexa filing her under a moment of weakness, a temporary lapse of judgement, in her head.</p><p>“No... Well kind of... I don’t know how to answer that. Your drunk ass caught a Lyft across town to find her at Grounders. Then you clung to her like a monkey and made her promise not to leave you. Luckily, she called me and we got you home safe and tucked into bed. Oh... and you also told her you’re still in love with her...” She heard a choking cough from the kitchen as well as the sound of a slamming coffee cup. All Clarke could think about was how bad this was beginning to hurt. How she could feel the anxious sobs building in her chest, not yet making it to her eyes. </p><p>“I did what?! I don’t love her... I mean... I love Costia! I’m marrying Costia!” The volume was well above a whisper at this point, and Clarke couldn’t listen to Lexa process this information, couldn’t listen to her rewrite this into her own perfect reality. Like she was her own publicist spinning the story so it was more suitable for the general public. She sat up, fully aware that she was in a baggy sweatshirt and men’s pajama pants, slid her shoes on and headed for the door.</p><p>“As much as I would love to stick around and hear you talk about how you’re not in love with me... I think I’m going to go and try to preserve whatever pieces of my heart I have left. Anya, text me when it’s safe to come back.” Clarke’s voice was wavering, and she could see the complicated power struggle of sadness and guilt in Lexa’s meadow green eyes, but it was all drowned out by the sound of the blood rushing in her ears.</p><p>“Clarke... I...” But she couldn’t stop, couldn’t let the memory of the girl she fell in love with dilute the truth. Couldn’t let the dream version of Lexa make her forget about the reality.</p><p>***</p><p>“Clarke, where are you right now?” Raven’s voice was quiet and concerned. “Anya told me shit kinda hit the fan.”</p><p>“I’m at the park down the block. I’m fine, Ray... I swear.” She sipped at a bitter, burnt coffee, the late morning breeze having yet to give way to the early afternoon humidity. It was beautiful out, quiet and sleepy. The kind of morning that should be spent in a lover’s arms , in a lover’s thoughts and daydreams. It felt the way a Sunday should, if her eyes didn’t feel like heavy rain clouds and her chest didn’t feel like it was too full and also too hollow at the same time. Echoes taking up all the room, memories and ghosts were all beginning to feel the same; watered down versions of the real thing to make her feel like she isn’t really gone. But she’s gone.</p><p>The thing about ghosts and memories and dreams and inebriated lovers is that they’ll convince you that the ache you feel in your bones like marrow has purpose. It’s desperation mimicking hope. It’s reading so far in between the lines that the lines no longer exist, that the margins become the lines, waiting, just waiting for someone else’s thoughts to fill them. Someone else’s idea of what your ideas mean. Until you are cracked in half, hoping she’ll fill up your hollow chest with echoes of your own words, of your own heart beat. Until you begin to convince yourself that those echoes aren’t echoes at all, but rather the origin of sound itself. Until you start convincing yourself that those are her thoughts and wants and needs and desires too.  But you can’t make a body out of an apparition, can’t make an idea out of the ghost of a sound.</p><p>“Don’t move. I’m coming to you.” She hated that those words were coming from Raven. She hated that Lexa hadn’t followed her, chased her down a city block, and at the very least attempted some semblance of closure. How could she mean less than an apology? How could she mean less than a goodbye?</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>“Clarke...” The sudden voice filling the silence made her jump. It wasn’t the voice she expected. It wasn’t black hair and brown eyes, but wavy caramel and sea green. It was all bergamot and teakwood. All consuming, all painful.</p><p>“Lexa, I can’t do this with you right now... I think you’ve disappointed me enough for one lifetime.” The words cut like a knife, she could see it in the tides now forming in those sea foam orbs. But she didn’t falter, didn’t give in. Instead she moved closer, sat down in the vacant seat next to the blonde. </p><p>“I’m so sorry about last night... About putting you in that position. I was drunk... Black out drunk...” Lexa couldn’t make eye contact, glancing down at a crushed cigarette and rubbing at her knuckles. Clarke continued staring forward, eyes pink with past tears and lack of sleep. She didn’t need excuses or confused apologies. She needed something she was well aware Lexa couldn’t give her.</p><p>“Lexa... Last night was the first time you’ve looked at me like that in three and a half years. And you were drunk, and lost, and totally out of your element, but you found a temporary home in me.” Lexa took a big breath in reply and clenched her jaw. Her body was tense, all sharp angles. “And for a moment, while I kept you steady in my arms or tucked you safely into bed, I convinced myself that maybe you might still love me as much as I love you. And while all of this is naive and poorly timed, I won’t apologize for the closure I never got or the way my heart still aches when I see you... You said that I was too stubborn to back down from a fight, but too timid to vocalize my needs.” She took a deep, grounding breath, doing her best to keep her voice level. “So here I am, not looking for a fight and telling you that what I need is you.... But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”</p><p>The silence was deafening and so was the sound of her own heart beat pounding in her ears. She wasn’t sure when she got up. Wasn’t sure when her legs found the strength to carry her away. Wasn’t sure how she made it back to Raven and Anya’s apartment, into the guest bed that now smelled like Lexa’s perfume and sleep. Wasn’t sure when the tears started or how they were going to end. All she knew was she had her answer; her margins empty, her heart still cracked in half.</p><p>***</p><p>“Knock, knock. I’m here to perform a wellness check...” Her best friend’s familiar voice was just above a whisper, ever so soft and sweet. “You’ve been locked in here for 24 hours. You need to get out, shower, breathe real air.” </p><p>Clarke buried her face deeper into the pillow, taking in a big inhale of her favorite scent; a scent  that her sheets had lacked for far too long.</p><p>“I don’t know what I expected Ray... She’s getting married. The wedding is in like four days!” Clarke could feel the end of the bed dip and a gentle, reassuring squeeze to her left foot. </p><p>“Well... If it makes you feel any better, Anya has been on Lexa duty for the past day and a half, and she’s absolutely out of it. Costia almost made her go to the doctor, but I don’t think there’s much they can do about a broken heart...” Clarke rolled on her side just enough to glance at the dark haired girl. </p><p> “She’s not heart broken.... She doesn’t get to be heartbroken. She made her choice, and it wasn’t me.” And sure, Clarke knew the sentiment was selfish and totally unfair. She knew that she was asking a lot of a girl who hadn’t properly loved her in years. Who Clarke only loved through old videos on her phone and photos in a shoe box under her bed. She knew she was years to late for her heart’s expectations, but she was hurting. And hurt doesn’t have an expiration date. It just knows how to occupy the space where love used to be. </p><p>“Clarke, she took a Lyft across town in hopes that your love sick ass would be at that bar. She clung to you the whole night and told you she still fucking loves you. She may have been drunk, but those words didn’t just come out of thin air.” Raven was now shaking her head, clearly frustrated with the self pitying, un-showered ball of sadness taking residency in her guest room. “She’s heart broken too, she just has the complication of a ring and a wedding venue... and oh yeah... a fiancé...”</p><p>***</p><p>It was the day before the wedding, and Anya and Raven were getting ready for the rehearsal dinner, since they were both in the wedding party. Clarke had made reservations with the couch, her date being the TV. That was until she climbed inside of her own head and couldn’t get out. </p><p>As much as she hated to admit it, Raven was right. She had a lot less at stake. Sure, her heart felt like a high price to pay for a girl she hadn’t even really spoken to in 3 years. But how could she expect Lexa to give up her vision of a future. How could she expect her to give up a stable relationship for a pair of arms and a promise. And at that moment, on a perfect Sunday morning, she was too blinded by the searing pain her chest to see beyond it. To grasp that her expectations were gargantuan, misguided, foolish thoughts, perpetuated by her inability to let Lexa go. And she still wasn’t ready, but now she was much better prepared to tell her that.</p><p>***</p><p>The plan was stupid and half baked. She got the rehearsal dinner’s address off the invitation on the fridge, put on the red, tight fitting, low cut dress that used to drive Lexa wild, and drove across town to the venue, which was a refurbished barn in the countryside. By the time she made it there, the sky was beginning to shift from cerulean blue to an inky black. She could hear laughter inside as she tried not to stumble. The only thing lighting her path being the soft yellow glow from the spaces between the wood planks of the sliding barn doors. </p><p>She shivered as the evening breeze carried the mindless chatter passed her. It felt like a gentle, yet poignant reminder that maybe this wasn’t the best idea. But this was her last chance, and she had to take it. She checked the time on her phone and it was showing 8. She knew the dinner started at 7 and was supposed to go till 9, so this was the perfect midway point to try and pull Lexa outside without the need to greet or say goodbye to guests.</p><p>Clarke [8:04]: Lexa, I really need to talk to you. </p><p>Lexa [8:05]: Clarke... I’m at my rehearsal dinner. This really isn’t the best time.</p><p>Clarke [8:05]: It’ll just be a few minutes. Tell Costia you left something in the car. </p><p>Clarke [8:06]: Oh... I forgot to mention... I’m right outside.</p><p> </p><p>Clarke paced the now all consuming darkness, feeling like an idiot. She set a mental timer of 5 minutes, after which point, she would leave both the venue and also this stupid, naive, pointless dream of Lexa behind. Just as she was about to turn back to her car, she heard the creek of the barn door and saw the silhouette of someone moving towards her</p><p>“Clarke... Where are you?” The voice was just above a whisper, velvety smooth but with an urgency that stopped the blonde in her tracks.</p><p>“Lex, I’m over here.” Clarke whispered back, hoping the wind wouldn’t carry it away along with the teaspoon of hope she still had left.  She saw the figure clumsily trudge towards her, trying not to trip in the tall grass. As she moved closer, Clarke gained a better visual. She was in a tight, white, sleeveless jumpsuit with a sweetheart neckline. Her hair was down in messy waves, and her eyes bit through the blackness like they were their own source of light. She was beautiful, and it almost took Clarke’s breath away.</p><p>“What the hell are you doing here?!” Right as she said it, the brunette stumbled forward, Clarke catching her by her forearms and steadying them both. They were now making solid eye contact, stunned by the sudden physical touch.</p><p>“I’m sorry... I know this is all poorly timed, but I didn’t like where we left things Sunday morning.” Clarke hoped the darkness would veil the internal war dancing across her face. Lexa was now shaking her head, staring off at a point over the blonde’s shoulder, clearly trying to piece together a coherent thought.</p><p>“Clarke, I don’t know if you know this, but I’m assuming you do, seeing as you RSVPed to the invitation I sent you. I’m getting married... Tomorrow!” Her gaze returned back to the blonde’s clearly frustrated, but now she she seemed to be taking in her full image for the first time. “And you’re in that fucking dress I can’t get enough of, looking at me like we’re still kids....” </p><p>“Listen, Lex... Can you just hear me out for a minute here?” She wasn’t sure if grabbing the brunette’s hand was even the appropriate course of action at this point, but seeing as she had held her in her arms just days ago, it felt innocent enough. “I spent five years of my life giving you all I had. My heart, my time, my early twenties... And I did it proudly, without any reservation, because to me, you were everything.” Lexa peered up from the patch of grass her gaze had landed on, and was now looking her dead in the eyes. Her facial expression was hard to read, and Clarke hated it because she used to be so in tune with Lexa’s nonverbal communication. “Then, one day, it was like we couldn’t talk without arguing. You pushed me away without a reason, or a warning, or a goddamn excuse, and it nearly crushed me... But I thought if I was good enough, if I loved enough for the both of us, I could bring you back to me... But you never came back, and you never told me why...”</p><p>Clarke’s eyes were no brimming with tears and her head was swimming with the intoxicating smell of Lexa’s perfume and the ferocity in her green eyes. </p><p>“Clarke, when we met, I was 19 years old. You were smooth, and funny, and so fucking beautiful, that I didn’t know how someone like you could ever love someone like me.” Clarke could hear the quiver in Lexa’s voice, her eyes now sharing the same misty quality as her own. “We had been together for so long, but the uneasiness that I wasn’t enough never went away. So I started pushing you. I picked fights I knew you couldn’t back down from, and made it almost impossible for you not to walk away. Until one day, you did...” Those words, that reasoning, frustrated Clarke to her core. It made it impossible for her to tell the difference between anger and love at this point, both so overwhelming that she ached with the immensity of this confused jumble of feelings.</p><p>“So you’re telling me you sabotaged us because you were too insecure to see how much I fucking loved you?!” Clarke was now shaking, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the chill of the breeze or the totally infuriating truth of why they fell apart.</p><p>“I ruined us because I was scared of how much I loved you... How much I still love you.” That statement snapped blue back to green, and Clarke could now see the tracks of tears glinting down lexa’s cheeks, illuminated by the silver light of the moon. And before either girl could think logically, she felt Lexa crash into her, her hands reaching up to her jaw, pulling her in for the most passionate kiss she had had in years. Clarke pulled Lexa closer by her hips, as she felt the brunette’s hands move to the back of her neck. It was rigid, and uncoordinated, and totally heart breaking, that Clarke had trouble reminding herself all the reasons this shouldn’t be happening. That was until Lexa’s phone vibrated, and she jumped backwards, shocked back into reality. Clarke was prepared for Lexa to begin listing all the reasons this was a mistake, all the reasons why she was too late, but it never came. “Fuck, it’s Costia, I have to go...”</p><p>And just as quickly as she had arrived, she disappeared into the darkness, leaving Clarke with emotional whiplash. She began to make the trek back to her car, feeling totally lost and dazed when she felt her phone buzz.</p><p>Lexa [8:15]: Meet me at 10 at the Hilton on Green Street.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Get ready for just a touch of angst with a whole lot of fluff.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I think this fic will be coming to a end soon, and I’m still trying to figure out the best way to write that.</p><p>But let me know what you think about this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clarke found herself at a dimly lit hotel bar at 9:45 PM. She was embarrassed and mentally drained, but she couldn’t get the tingling feeling of Lexa’s lips on hers out of her head. She was sure tonight would crush her. That after what ever this evening turned out to be, Lexa would get married and they would never speak about it again. And Clarke didn’t know what to do with the information that Lexa still loved her, because it felt like a double edged sword. </p><p>You could love someone with every fiber of your being. You could want them, reach for them in your dreams and in your distracted subconscious, but that doesn’t mean they’re what you need. So Clarke took a long sip from her gin and soda and tried to let the burn in her throat make ash of the anxious thoughts in her head. </p><p>She felt a soft, gentle hand meet her bare shoulder blade, pulling her from her distant thoughts. She turned in her bar stool to find Lexa smiling warmly at her, her eyes tired from the emotional toll this evening had taken on her. </p><p>“Let’s go upstairs.” The hand slid down her arm until it was interlacing with her fingers and pulling her towards the elevator. It was all so tender and sweet, and Clarke felt like she could melt through the floor as the elevator doors closed. “I think we need to talk, but let’s get to the room first.” All Clarke could do was nod and try not to think too hard about how their hands fit together so perfectly. </p><p>She was led to a spacious room with a view over looking the city. There appeared to be celebratory champagne in an ice bucket by the tv, as well as a note from the hotel congratulating Lexa on her impending nuptials. She never pegged the brunette as a traditionalist, spending the night before the wedding away from her fiancé, but maybe that was just because Clarke couldn’t imagine missing an evening with Lexa if she had a say in it.</p><p>“Lexa, I have to tell you, I’m unbelievably confused.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing her temples and trying to herd all of her thoughts into one section of her brain. “You’ve been so hot and cold with me. Showing up drunk at the bar, telling me you love me, not wanting me to go. Then the next morning adamantly telling your sister you love Costia...” She could see Lexa flinch at hearing her fiancé’s name. Likely a stinging reminder of how morally wrong this evening has been and will probably continue being. “And then tonight, without the excuse of alcohol, you tell me you love me again and you kiss me. And it didn’t feel like some goodbye kiss, at least not to me...” Lexa let out a heavy sigh and slid into the spot on the bed directly next to her, feeling eerily similar to the moment they shared just days ago on that park bench. The brunette rested her elbows on her knees, her hands propping up her chin to stare forward at the TV.</p><p>“When you moved away, it broke my heart. And I knew I had no right to be angry with you, because I practically forced you into it, but I was still hurting. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I wasn’t answering my phone. I was a mess.” She continued staring forward, seeming to be fully emerged in some far off memory Clarke couldn’t reach. “But after some time, and without the worry of having to run into you or see you with someone else, I healed. After about a year, I started dating again, and that’s when I met Costia.” Clarke nodded and stared down at the folded fingers in her lap. “She’s kind, and she’s beautiful, and she says all the right things. She makes sense.” Clarke’s chest was beginning to burn, and she felt like she couldn’t breath. This room now seemed too small for the immensity of those words.  </p><p>“Fuck Lexa... What am I even doing here? I’m such a fucking idiot.” She got up off the bed feeling totally foolish and embarrassed, her pride hurting as much as her heart. She began heading for the door, until long familiar fingers pulled her back, catching her before she could fall forward. “I can’t do this with you Lexa. I can’t be the girl you love for a night at a time, then by morning label as a mistake... I won’t.” The tears were coming faster than she could stop them, her body ridding them as quickly as the oxygen in her lungs.</p><p>“Shhhh Clarke, baby, please just listen to me.” She felt Lexa’s strong hands move up to her jaw, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the caverns of her cheeks. Her eyes so soft, and kind, and full of nothing other than adoration. “She makes sense, but she isn’t you... The only thing about you that I label as a mistake is letting you go.” </p><p>Clarke wanted to believe her, she didn’t want to fight the way her body naturally fit into hers. She didn’t want to look into her eyes and feel her soul ache with regret. She didn’t want to have to spend another three, or ten, or fifty years reaching for a body but only finding the chill of a ghost. </p><p>So she kissed her. Not as a promise or a temptation. Not as an answer to a question. But because that was what she needed in that moment. She needed to feel Lexa’s arms tighten around her. She needed to know that she wasn’t just a memory collecting dust in a shoe box under her bed. She needed to believe that profound meaning could still be pulled from her cracked spined, dog eared, scribbled on heart. </p><p>“Clarke... I’m so sorry...” Lexa whimpered quietly against her lips, her eyes remaining closed. And Clarke wasn’t sure if she was apologizing for her broken heart, or the years they lost, or the fact that after tonight, she may not be as brave as she is right now. But all of that didn’t seem nearly as important as the way her long fingers tapped against her spine, promising not to overstay her welcome. And the last thing Clarke remembers coherently thinking is how much she wished she would. </p><p>***</p><p>She was awoken the next morning by the aggressively bright rays of sun piercing through the partially drawn curtains. She reached across the expansive king sized bed in hopes of finding a sleepy brunette with emerald green eyes. Instead, she was met with cool sheets and an uneasy feeling in her stomach.</p><p>Lexa was gone. No note, no text, no call, no proof that she was even there to begin with.  And maybe that was her plan all along; give every ounce of love her heart had left before surrendering to the next logical step in her life. But it ripped Clarke in half none the less. </p><p>She collected the discarded red dress from the floor, slipping it on as if it weren’t a total reminder of the lengths she was willing to go to seduce an already tethered soul. And she hated herself for how humiliated and heart broken she felt. And she hated Lexa for making her feel sacred and then slipping out in the early hours of the morning as if she were some one night stand. But what she hated most of all was the hope that refused to die in her chest. The wanting to believe that, even after all of this, Lexa could still love her enough to chose her. </p><p>***</p><p>She immediately began packing when she made it back to Anya and Raven’s. Wedding be damned, she knew she couldn’t watch the girl who promised her heart to her just hours ago give it freely to someone else. She was haphazardly throwing wrinkled balls of fabric in to her duffle bag, and wiping at the angry tears that refuse to cease no matter how many times she tried to breathe through them.</p><p>“Clarke?...” She heard a gentle knock on the door. “Can I come in?”</p><p>Before she could say anything else, the older woods was standing in the door way, staring at her chaotic performance that could barely be labeled as packing. It was beginning to feel so achingly similar to the evening Anya tried to stop her from leaving years ago. Except last time, she was running from the inevitable heart break. This time, she faced it head on, with hands and lips and words she thought she would never get to say. The result was still the same; she was broken.</p><p>And she was shoving all of her shattered pieces into her duffle bag with mismatched socks, and faded sleep shirts, and images of Lexa from the night before whispering how much she loved her like an intoxicated daydream. Like a ghost, or a memory, or an inebriated lover; a soul making promises that only a body could keep.</p><p>“Clarke, you can’t leave. Please, just slow down...” Anya’s pleading tone was now making Clarke panic. Memories and reality were all beginning to swirl together, both demanding all the oxygen in the room, leaving nothing but the pained exhale.</p><p>“She told me she loved me, Ahn. And she kissed me. And she said letting me go was a mistake...” She needed a moment to gather her thoughts, to try and take breaths uninhibited by a wall of anxiety. “And like a love drunk idiot, I believed her.... But this morning, I woke up alone without any evidence that she was ever really there.” She knew she was saying too much. She knew that it wasn’t fair to put Anya in this position, but she felt like an injured animal; wild and lashing out.</p><p>“I don’t know what happened between you two last night, or even really this week. What I do know if this; the last time you didn’t listen to me, you regretted it. So please, I’m telling you to just trust me.” The desperation in Anya’s voice halted Clarke in her tracks. The only thing left to pack, the very thing in her hands, was the light blue, hugs in all the right places, dress that she was planning on wearing to the wedding. “Please just put that dress on, throw on a face of make up, and come get me when you’re ready... I promise you Clarke, I wouldn’t do anything I didn’t think is in your heart’s best interest.”</p><p>As much as Clarke hated Lexa,  she couldn’t find it in her not to trust Anya. So she did just that. She slid on the light blue dress, covered her puffy, pink eyes in powder, and made herself as presentable as she could for close to no sleep and hours of streaming tears. When she stepped out of the guest room, she was met by Anya and Raven shaking their heads, matching soft smile adorning their faces.</p><p>“Clarke, you look stunning.” Raven uttered just above a whisper. Part of the blonde thought Lexa didn’t deserve it, that she had put in all this effort for someone that could never fully give the girl her heart. But if this was the last time she ever saw Lexa woods, she wanted her to never forget it.</p><p>***</p><p>When they pulled up to the barn. , it was oddly quiet. There was no idle chatter of guests arriving. No parking lot of cars, or soft music dancing through the expansive field of long grass and wild flowers. Just the sound of the birds outside and the vehicle they arrived in cutting off.</p><p>“Where is everyone?” Clarke looked around in a panic, trying to find some semblance of a clue that this was a wedding; that this was Lexa’s wedding.</p><p>“Clarke, I told you, you just have to trust me.” Anya’s voice was soft and kind as she linked one of her arms around the blonde’s, leading her to the barn that just hours ago was full of life and laughter and warm light. She could see Raven just behind them furiously tapping at her phone. Something seemed off, and Clarke had no idea how to process any of it.</p><p>As they got closer to the barn entrance, she heard a sweet melody escaping the cracks in the door. As it swung open, the first thing she noticed was the lack of chairs, and tables, and flower arrangements. There weren’t throngs of people waiting to be seated or the excited buzz of conversation. Just Lexa, standing in the center of the room, fairy lights cascading down every wall, a small bouquet of pink daffodils in her hands. She wore black fitted slacks and a white button down with sleeves rolled up to her forearms. Her hair was down in perfect waves, and her fierce green eyes pierced through all the confusion within Clarke. </p><p>She was all of a sudden very aware of the soft voice floating through the room. Phoebe Bridger’s cover of Tom Petty’s ‘It’ll All Work Out’ enveloping her completely. </p><p>“She wore faded jeans and soft black leather.<br/>
She had eyes so blue, they looked like weather.<br/>
When she needed me, I wasn’t around.<br/>
That’s the way it goes, it’ll all work out.”</p><p>Her heart ached at the way the words seemed to say everything Lexa couldn’t. She could see the tears welling up in the brunette’s eyes, feeling like the sweetest surrender to this moment, to this song.</p><p>“There were times apart, and times together.<br/>
I was pledged to her for worse or better.<br/>
When it mattered most, I let her down.<br/>
That’s the way it goes, it’ll all work out.”</p><p>“Lexa... What is this?” She stood stunned in the doorway, her heart pounding against her chest. The brunette silently moved across the room, softly grabbing her hand, and pulling her towards the center.</p><p>“Now the wind is high, and the rain is heavy.<br/>
The water’s rising in the levee.<br/>
Still, I think of her when the sun goes down.<br/>
It never goes away, but it all works out.”</p><p>“Clarke, I’m so sorry. For being a coward and running from this... from us. I’m sorry for making you feel like you were alone in the love you felt and freely gave. I’m sorry that I didn’t chase you, because god, you deserved to be chased... I’m sorry that I broke your heart, and made you question for even a moment that you didn’t have mine. But mostly I’m sorry that it took me this long to realize you are it for me.”</p><p>“But Lexa... What about the wedding? Costia? Your plans?” This was everything she had always wanted, and here she was questioning it. Her heart too gun shy to really believe that Lexa could choose her, could love her enough to give it all up.</p><p>“I called it off. All of it.” Clarke was staring at the floor having trouble making eye contact, that was until Lexa’s right hand gently pulled her chin up so they were staring into each other’s eyes. “I don’t think I realized how totally and completely in love I still was with you until I saw you across that bar. I had convinced my drunk self that I just needed to see you before the wedding, and then I could move on, could let you go. But after that night, you were the only thing on my mind. And after everything we’ve been through, you are certainly the only one who has my heart.” </p><p>“Did you bring me flowers?” It was the only coherent thought that Clarke was able to vocalize during her emotional overload.</p><p>“Pink daffodils. They mean ‘rebirth’ and ‘new beginnings’. They also bloom in the beginning of spring, which is my favorite time of the year because it always reminds me of a beautiful distracted blonde and the way she felt like forever.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lexa gets Clarke’s response and some difficult questions are answered.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The air was heavy, full of hopes, and silent promises, and love that had been lost for so long before finally finding its way back. Like when you turn your key in your front door lock after a long business trip; thankful for what you learned and accomplished, but ready to sleep in your own bed surrounded by the warmth that only familiarity can provide.</p><p>Lexa was home. She was nostalgia in the form of gentle hands, and butterfly kisses, and teeth softly dragging across her bottom lip. She was safe, and quiet, and absolutely beautiful in a heart shattering way. </p><p>And while she felt like Clarke’s happiest memory, there was something so exciting about getting to know Lexa again. About seeing how the past few years have changed her, pushed her, added scars and freckles and ink Clarke had never seen. Like when you lend a friend your favorite book and there are new notes next to yours, new ideas you didn’t think to explore, things that were always there but you never thought to appreciate.</p><p>While the beautiful brunette stared back at her with anxious anticipation in her misty, emerald green eyes, Clarke couldn’t help but think this was the start of the rest of their lives. This was the start of a future together. </p><p>“Lexa... Are you ready for this?” But the real question was buried beneath it all, ‘Are you ready for forever?’</p><p>Before Clarke could say anything else, she felt Lexa’s lips against her own, firm, and confident, and totally sure. She squeezed Clarke’s hands harder so their palms were flush against each others’, then released them and found her way to Clarke’s hips, closing the remaining distance between them. She gently pulled away from their kiss and pressed her forehead against Clarke’s so their eyes could meet, so Clarke could find the truth and honesty in them. The fact that Lexa knew what she needed, even after all these years, caused tears to form and run down her cheeks.</p><p>“Baby, what’s wrong? Is this okay?... I mean... If we’re going too fast or you don’t want this... I underst-” Before Lexa could finish her sentence Clarke’s lips found her way back, silencing the uneasy thoughts before they could take root and grow.</p><p>“Lexa, I love you... More than anything, more than I can really fathom. It just caught me off guard that you still seem to know me after all this time.”</p><p>“Clarke, forgetting you would be like forgetting how to breathe.” Clarke didn’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or thank some god that she doesn’t believe in. So she just nodded and leaned forward, laying her head on Lexa’s chest and listening to the pounding of her heart slip in between the notes of the song.</p><p>She had honestly forgotten anyone else was in the room until she heard soft, unintelligible whispers and the quiet creaking of the barn door closing. And like that they were alone for the first time in years without any reason why they shouldn’t be. No ring, no fiancé, an empty venue that was meant to be someone else’s happily ever after.</p><p>“What’re you thinking about?” The simple question felt heavier now, with the realization of a return flight and nothing in stone, not even the way Lexa’s heart was racing against her ear. It made her hold on a little tighter, want her a little more in this current moment.</p><p>“How’re we going to do this? Make this work?” Lexa nodded and slipped her hands on either side of Clarke’s jaw, guiding her face up to look her in the eyes. </p><p>“We can do long distance... Or I could come to you, my job is flexible... Or-”</p><p>“What if I moved back home?” The question silenced Lexa and brought a small, nervous smile to her lips. </p><p>“Clarke, I just want you to be happy, and if that’s here or there or on the moon, I will be there ready to call it home.” Clarke’s heart swelled at how sweet and absolutely genuine those words were.</p><p>“I mean, I still have a lot of friends here. My family’s here. Your family’s here. I can paint anywhere. It just makes sense, right?” Lexa nodded but looked down, clearly thinking hard about something.</p><p>“It makes sense, but if I’ve learned anything from the past few years, sense and true happiness don’t always go hand in hand. Will this make you happy?”</p><p>“Getting to call you home makes me happy. And after spending the week with Anya and Raven, I didn’t realize how much I missed my old life until I was here. I ache for it.” Now Lexa’s eyes were misty. They studied her face like they were scared of forgetting the exact color of her eyes or the freckles by her nose or the smile lines by the curve of her lips.</p><p>“I’m so sorry for pushing you away... And for not chasing you when you left... I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for the time we lost.” The mist was now turning to rain drops, and Clarke hoped her words would act as an umbrella to stop them from tainting the absolutely perfect moment they were having. The pads of her fingers wiped at the apples of Lexa’s cheeks, as she gave the girl a warm smile that she hope would imitate sunshine.</p><p>“Baby, yes, those years sucked. And yes, we lost a little time. But I think it was worth it if it brings us back together stronger. If it has taught you that I’m not going anywhere and that you deserve this love.” Lexa nodded and smiled back, then pulled Clarke in for a tight hug, kissing the crook of her neck and whispering ‘I love you’. It was so quiet that Clarke felt the soft breath it was carried on rather than really hearing it. “I love you too... Always.”</p><p>And for the first time in 3 years, Clarke felt at peace. No more running or chasing. No more ghosts or painful memories. Just two hands and words that were fighting for her. Finding forever in her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So sorry for the delay! Was having some writer’s block and wasn’t sure where I wanted to take this story. I think we’re nearing the end on this one, but may do a look into their future together.</p><p>Let me know what you think!</p>
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